


Unearthed Bones

by Glare



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Organized Crime, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:31:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glare/pseuds/Glare
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi has given up a life of crime in favor of the questionable comforts of witness protection. Placed in a boring library job, everything appears to go great until he realizes his incompetent handlers somehow managed to drop him right in the middle of another man's operation.Or, How Obi-Wan Kenobi Became a Crime Lord... Again.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This came to be from a combination of a couple conversations of Obikin Mobster Aus, ImagineDestiel's new fic [ The World Is Yours ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9534659) (which you should definitely check out), and a prompt over on my [ my tumblr ](http://glare-gryphon.tumblr.com/).  
> I really don't need another multichapter, but I really like this one so *shrugs*

**Oh Lord, oh Lord,**

**What have I done?**

**I've fallen in love**

**With a man on the run**

**Devil's Backbone - The Civil Wars**

* * *

 

There are days when Ben honestly wonders if Ahsoka thinks him stupid.

On these days, when the flow of people in and out of the library is slower than usual, he watches from the front desk as a stream of twitchy men and women with sallow, sunken skin meander through the aisles with a nonchalance that is hardly convincing. They always end up in the same aisle, in the end, plucking the same old book from the shelf. It’s a law tome, battered and outdated; hardly the sort of thing the average man off the street would be interested in when they have the rest of Tatooine’s library at their disposal. In fact, the only reason Ben hasn’t been told to take the book off the shelves is because of its unusually high rate of use. You don’t fix what isn’t broken, in the library world.

These people carry the book back up to the front desk without delay, reluctantly handing it to Ben, who scans their respective library card before the volume is all but snatched from his grip. When they stumble back out the front door, they don’t go far. Often he watches them stop just outside, rustling though the pages before stuffing something in their pockets and dropping the book back in the return slot with a soft _thunk_. Ahsoka, ever diligent, collects it and walks it back to its place on the shelf, seemingly to genuinely think that Ben doesn’t notice when she slips something between the pages on her way there.

Ben has been working at the Tatooine Library for a little under a year. His assistant, a girl by the name of Ahsoka Tano, had come with the position. Tano is in her mid-teens—the age when youths typically begin working—with dark skin and bleached, white hair. She is, as far as assistants go, actually quite competent at her job. She arrives on time, does her work efficiently, and rarely ever calls out. All things considered, Ben would take a perfect assistant running drugs through his library over an incompetent assistant any day. Stars knows he has made more than his fair share of questionable decisions in his life; it’s the reason he’s been so patient with the steady stream of junkies that stumble through their doors on a daily basis. Who is he to judge?

Though he does wonder how stupid someone else had to be to not notice what, exactly, is going on here. It’d been fairly obvious to him from day one.

It comes to a head, however, when one of Ahsoka’s customers arrives still riding his previous high. He’s wild-eyed and twitchier than usual, drawing the attention of the library’s more respectable patrons as he stumbles through the aisles. Ben watches as they mutter to themselves, women steering their children out of the way, and mournfully realizes that he’s going to have to step in before someone makes a rash decision. He’s come to like his predicable little job in this predictable little town; it’s been a pleasant change of pace from… well… the rest of his life.

So he forces himself out from behind the desk. Ahsoka tries to catch his attention before he gets very far, attempting to derail his plan of approaching the man, but Ben brushes her off. Instead, he weaves his way through the library’s aisles, making his way over to where he knows the desired book to be. The man is just pulling it off the shelf when he arrives, turning to find Ben standing just behind him when he makes to head back to the front of the library.

“C-can I help you, Mr. Lars?” he stutters in a pathetic attempt to hide just how alarmed he is. Ben rarely interacts with Ahsoka’s clientele beyond the minimum, and to see him out from behind the desk has thrown the man distinctly off his game. Not that he was on his game today in the first place.

“You’re making a scene,” Ben informs him, extending a hand, palm up, into the space between them. “Give me the book.” When the man hesitates, obviously considering refusing to comply, he adds, “Give me the book and get out of my library before I get the police involved.”

The man freezes, his twitchiness gone in the face of terror. He looks past Ben, searching for something, and he chances a glance over his shoulder to see what. Ahsoka is standing behind Ben’s desk, in clear line of sight to the whole situation, looking absolutely horrified by the sudden turn of events. She doesn’t appear to be prepared to step in, though, prompting the man to shove the book into Ben’s chest and flee the building with appropriate haste. Ben follows him as far as the front door, to make sure he gets there, before returning to the staff office Ahsoka has disappeared into in the meantime.

He catches her just before she slips out the back door, bag over her shoulder and fear written across her face. Ben doesn’t look like much of a threat, dresses in oversized sweaters and bland colors in hopes of dulling the sharp look in his eyes, but the strength of his grip around her bicep is enough to deter her from struggling. While he would never actually hurt her, he’d rather just get this confrontation over with than fight her about the matter for the next half-hour.

“Give me the bag, Ahsoka,” he demands, and she does, shaking like a leaf while she watches him rifle through the pockets. Inside is exactly what he expects to find: her lunch, a couple school books, and a little over a dozen small baggies of fine, white powder. Ben releases a sharp breath through his nose as he holds one of the bags up to the light, examining it. Fairly decent quality product, he would guess; it would take testing it to find out exactly how nice, and he can’t take a risk like that. “You can tell your employer,” he growls, stuffing the book he took from the junkie into the sack before zipping it back up, “that if he’d like his merchandise back, he can come get it from me in person. We obviously have a few things that we need to discuss.”

Tano nods, wide-eyed, and finally escapes out into the alley. Ben doesn’t stop her this time, taking the bag with him when he returns to the front desk. He scrubs at his beard, still trying to adjust to the feeling of facial hair after so long clean-shaven, and has a feeling that it’s going to be a long night.

__

Considering the events of that afternoon, he’s not entirely surprised to find a sleek, black town car waiting in the alley when he’s done locking up for the night. A young woman, dressed in a neat—if slightly casual—suit and a typical driver’s cap, stands by the open door of the backseat.

“If you would, Mr. Lars,” she says with a shark’s grin, motioning for him to get in the car. Ben goes without complaint, noting the bulge of twin holsters from beneath her coat. Judging by the custom tailoring of her suit, which could have easily been made to hide her weapons, they aren’t meant to be ignored.

The door slams shut behind him as soon as he climbs in, the woman making her way to the driver’s side. It gives Ben time to take in his surroundings: rich leather seats, barely worn from use; soft music playing through the stereo; the smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. It’s not a completely foreign environment, but it’s definitely not where he thought he’d end his day when he walked into work that morning.

“Where to, boss?” the driver asks when she settles into her own seat, glancing in the rearview mirror and drawing Ben’s attention to the other man in the backseat.

Well, calling the other passenger a _man_ may be a stretch of the definition. An adult, yes, but the person Ben finds himself face to face with would better bear the title _boy_ than _man_. Ahsoka’s employer lounges on the other side of the car, his long, thin frame accentuated by the cut of an expensive, grey suit. Blue eyes watch Ben from a youthful face, marred only by a single scar across the boy’s right eye. His blonde hair is cut short, standing up and ruffled in a way that makes him appear effortlessly beautiful.

“Just start driving, Aphra. I don’t know how long this meeting will take.”

Aphra pulls the car out of the alley and out onto the main road, prompting the boy’s attention to return to Ben. He scrutinizes the older man for a moment before asking, “I’m told you have something that belongs to me?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t involve the police,” Ben replies, sliding Ahsoka’s pack off his shoulder and setting it down on the seat between them. The boy unzips the pack, briefly rifling through it to ascertain that his product is present and accounted for before zipping it back up again.

“And why didn’t you?” the boy asks. “Anyone else would have.”

“I’m not a snitch.” He snorts.

“Would the Federal Marshals staking out your place agree with that statement?”

Ben feels himself stiffen, fear dumping adrenaline into his bloodstream despite the fact that he’s trained to remain cool under pressure. That skillset’s languished in disuse since his move to Tatooine, and he watches a smug, victorious smile crawl its way across the younger man’s face.

“Ben Lars… You know, when Ahsoka called me earlier and told me that you’d finally decided to step in on my operation, I thought we might have a problem.” He drawls, “My boys did some looking into you today, though. New in town, comparatively speaking. No family, no friends, not a lot to your name… Do you know about Coruscant’s _Jedi Order,_ Ben?”

The sudden change of topic is blatant, jarring, but Ben plays along nonetheless. It will have a point, eventually. “They’re an organized crime syndicate based in Coruscant, if I recall correctly. I’ve seen them mentioned a few times in the papers. Why?”

The other man nods, almost to himself. “You see, Ben, one of the Order’s top players went missing about a year ago. Obi-Wan Kenobi, his name was. A Knight, on the fast track to a Council seat if the rumors are to be believed. Some people think he made run for it; others think he’s dead. But do you know what I think?”

Ben forces himself to swallow past the lump in his throat. “What?” he rasps.

“I think that tattoo on your shoulder—the one Ahsoka says you’re always trying to hide—is the mark of a Jedi Knight. Isn’t that right, Obi-Wan?

“Imagine my surprise when I found out your hilariously incompetent handlers somehow managed to drop you right in the middle of my operation.”

There is a brief moment when Ben tenses, considering lunging across the backseat of the car and strangling the life out of this boy. That attempt may very well end with the driver gunning him down for threatening her employer, but at least he’d get the satisfaction of briefly wiping the smug look off the boy’s face. That train of thought is abruptly derailed when he finds himself staring down the barrel of a small handgun, self-preservation finally deciding to kick in.

“Now, let’s not do anything _hasty_ ,” the younger man chides, gesturing with his weapon for Ben to settle back into his seat. He hadn’t even noticed himself leaning out of it, halfway into motion before he was even done considering action.

“Well, it seems there’s no point in trying to hide it; you obviously know who I am,” he growls. “Which raises the question, who are you?”

“You can call me Vader.”

The name rings distant bells, but he can’t quite place anything beyond an affiliation. “ _Sith Empire_ , then?”

“That’s the one,” Vader purrs.

“What are the Sith doing in Tatooine? Last I’d heard, Sidious was trying to make a move for Naboo, not this backwater town.”

“Naboo went… poorly. But that happened after you disappeared. Sidious sent me here to try and recoup some losses before we move forward. Rebuild, reimagine. Prove myself, as it were.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Ben asks. “What do you want?”

Vader’s brows jump. “What makes you think I want anything from you?”

“If you didn’t, you would have either shot me or sent me on my way already.”

“So you are clever. And here I was thinking I might have overestimated you, what with you spending the last year apparently ignorant to the goings-on of my business.”

Ben chuckles. “I’ve played this game long enough to know the rules, Vader. Your business wasn’t disrupting mine, and the warm bodies in the building served to keep my position well enough funded. You don’t mess with a good thing unless you have to. So out with it: why am I here?”

The younger man considers him a moment more before announcing, “I’d like you to work with me.” He leans in, conspiratorial, and Ben finds himself leaning in as well despite the way the barrel of Vader’s gun presses into his ribcage when he does. Irrationally, he trusts Vader not to shoot him in this moment. “My people and I are being called back to Coruscant in a few weeks. Sidious thinks we’re ready to play in the big leagues.”

“I thought this sojourn to nowhere was to prove yourself. If the Master thinks you’re ready, what do you need me for?”

“An important part of leading is having the right followers. You were the best, Obi-Wan. The stories I’ve heard? Incredible. If we worked together, we’d be unstoppable. Think about it. No more Tatooine, no more court dates, no more Marshals breathing down your neck. It only took my guys a couple of hours to figure out who you really are; what would happen if the Order found out you’d turned rat? I can set you up with something so much better,” Vader says, breath ghosting across Ben’s cheeks, conviction in his eyes. “I can _protect_ you, and in no time we’ll be running those streets.”

If you’d asked Ben that morning if he’d like to get back in the game, the answer would have been a resounding no. The Ben of that morning had believed himself at peace with his boring little life in Tatooine, thank you. Now that Vader’s offer is on the table, however, he practically finds himself drooling at the prospect of freedom. “Why should I trust you?” He asks, a last attempt at dissuading himself from the _yes_ that’s trying to claw its way out.

“We’ve all got skeletons, Obi-Wan,” Vader says. “I unearthed yours, and you’re still alive.” He extends a hand across the seat: an offering of salvation. “What say next time, we bury them better. Together.”

He’s enjoyed his peace in Tatooine, yes, but a part of him is always going to be a Jedi Knight. A part of him is always going to live for the thrill.

Against his better judgement, Ben takes his hand.


	2. Two

By the time Ben arrives at the library the following morning, the lights are already on and the doors are unlocked. It seems that his employee has decided to brave a return even after the affairs of the previous day. Early morning patrons come and go, dropping off old books and collecting new ones to keep themselves entertained at their cubicles through the drag of their nine-to-five jobs. Rather then entering the building immediately, however, Ben pauses in the parking lot and leans back against his motorbike, taking a long moment to study the building.

Before his unexpected meeting with Vader, this place had served as a mooring point; the solid ground on which he’d built this new life beyond the guns and drugs and wanted posters. Now, the winds of change are blowing, and the squat building is nothing more than transient space. This library and its visitors and the undercover Marshal sitting in his car in the parking lot are nothing more than the vessel chosen to transport him back to the life he’s always known. The spark of fondness he feels for slightly dilapidated building has more to do with the memories he will make in the future than the ones he has made in the past.

Ahsoka is seated in his desk when he finally enters, looking out over their kingdom of paper and ink and twiddling her thumbs in a distinctly anxious manner. It is a surprise that she is here at all, considering the way they last parted. Ben is left to suppose that Vader informed her it was safe to return to work, because he hadn’t called her. Either she would come in or she wouldn’t; there was no sense in worrying over it. He greets her as he walks past, and into the staff office to set his own bag down and go over the list of things still in need of doing. While it drives Ahsoka up the wall that he keeps lists of their daily responsibilities taped to the small fridge their meager expense budget had allowed them to purchase, it does help keep the both of them organized and their days on track. Due to her sudden departure the previous afternoon, several of the chores under her jurisdiction had failed to get done and would need seeing to before the afternoon and evening crowds found their way to the building.

Another surprise comes when he steps into the office, finding Vader himself lounging in one of the plastic chairs around their dining table. He’s thumbing through some kind of repair manual—a common interest in a small, self-sufficient town like Tatooine—and looks distinctly out of place with his sharp suit and expensive shoes. A heavy overcoat is folded on the table, unusually thick for Tatooine’s warm climate. Though really, what room does Ben have to judge? He wears sweaters to work almost every day.

“You’re late,” Vader notes, shutting the book and pushing it away. He glances up at Ben through his lashes as the older man goes about placing his lunch in the fridge. He has, Ben notes, very long eyelashes.

“Yes, well, I did not arrive home until quite late last night due to our little meeting. Federal Marshals tend to get a little jumpy when their witness’ routine changes unexpectedly. I received quite a lecture from Thing One this morning about the importance of remaining on a schedule and not wandering off where they can’t find me.” Ben flashes Vader a teasing smile. “You never know what kind of shady characters are lurking in the alleys.”

Vader smirks at the implication of Ben’s words. “We must have really spooked them, because Thing Two is lurking in the parking lot. Ahsoka had to let me in through the back. It’s repulsive out there, by the way.”

“Yes, well, I’m not paid to clean the alley. What brings you here this morning, anyways? I thought we’d worked everything out last night.”

“I have something for you.” Reaching into the inside pocket of his coat, Vader pulls out a small bundle wrapped in white cloth. He offers it to Ben, who recognizes the heft of a handgun before he’s even unwrapped the parcel. When he does, he takes a moment to inspect the weapon. Sleek black, fitting comfortably in his grip; no one could say that Vader doesn’t have good taste in weaponry. “I bet your handlers did give you one of those,” the younger man says with a wry smirk.

“You understand that if I’m caught with this, I’m going straight to prison for violating the terms of my plea deal, right?”

“I know you’ll be careful. You want out of this backwater town just as much as I do, and I like all my people to carry. You never know when something might happen.”

Ben quirks a brow as he untucks his shirt below his sweater, slipping the gun into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back. The baggy sweaters he’s taken to wearing will undoubtedly aid in hiding it. “Does Ahsoka?”

“Not a gun. She’s still learning to shoot. Until then she’s got a Taser and a couple knives. Besides, she spends all her time either at school, with me, or here with you. There really hasn’t been a reason for her to carry, yet.”

“I’m honored that you trust me with her safety,” Ben drawls. “Now, was there anything else you needed? I have work to do.”

Vader scowls at him, unhappy about the implied dismissal in the man’s words, but gets out of his chair nonetheless. “No,” he says, grabbing his overcoat from the table and pulling it on. “That should be all for now.” He brushes imaginary lint from his shoulders, pointedly ignoring Ben’s amused snort at the action. “I’ll catch you later.”

* * *

 

Ahsoka is still waiting at Ben’s desk when he emerges from the staff room, arms crossed on the surface of the table and her chin resting atop them. She glances up at him with a carefully crafted mask of apathy, but there’s something in her eyes that Ben can’t quite identify. Hurt? Concern, perhaps? “Vader says you’re cool now,” she says, not bothering to lower her voice. There’s hardly anyone in the library now, so there is little chance of them overheard. They can speak freely; there are clearly things that need discussing.

Ben leans his hip against the edge of the desk, crossing his own arms over his chest. “Yes, I’m _cool_.”

Nodding solemnly, Ahsoka drops her gaze to stare back out over the library. “And what’d he offer you? Drugs? Money? Women?”

“I was unaware that Vader had a hand in prostitution.”

“He doesn’t. But I had to ask, you know? This life… it’s dangerous, Ben. You shouldn’t get into it just because Vader made you a bunch of fancy promises.”

“Is that how he got you?” Ben asks, quirking a brow. For all the time they’ve spent together in the past year, he actually knows very little about Ahsoka’s life outside her workplace. The elephants in the room—her drug dealing for Vader and his status in witness protection—had served as a barrier in preventing Ben from getting to know her better. There’s only so dumb that one can play, after all, no matter how gifted they are at the art of conversation. Any conversations had were usually kept about work or, occasionally, vaguely worded weekend plans.

Ahsoka shrugs, still not meeting his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve got a lot of other options. I was a foster kid before Vader took me in.”

“Oh,” Ben says quietly. It certainly explains Ahsoka’s loyalty to the man despite her young age and the dangers of what Vader has her doing. He can’t say he’s surprised; many of the Order’s up-and-comings had been funneled from the foster system. There’s no shortage of angry, unwanted kids looking for a place to belong. “May I ask how you met?”

“I had these foster parents that I really liked, you know? I’d been there for a couple months, and we got on really well, but then the social worker showed up at the front door one day saying I was being moved. I was upset; ran off, got into some stuff I shouldn’t have.

One of the guys on Vader’s crew found me and brought me back to the house so I could dry out. In the morning, Vader talked to me and offered me a job. It was either go with him, or get bumped to another set of foster parents who might not get me.

I mean, it hasn’t been all bad. Hasn’t even been _mostly_ bad, even. It’s usually pretty good, when my boss at the library isn’t scaring the life out of me.” She offers him a lopsided smile, a teasing lilt to her voice. “And I’ve got to see a whole lot of places, thanks to Vader.”

The organization of the Jedi Order is this:

One Grandmaster, who remains in Coruscant at all times. Beneath him are twelve Councilors, each responsible for business and day to day life in each of the Order’s respective territories. Councilors are aided by Knights, the general foot soldiers, who may each train a few newly-initiated youths over the course of their lives. Councilors and their Knights will usually remain in the same city for the duration of their careers, ended either by death or arrest. Ben himself had been stationed in Naboo before the turf war began. While it made for more reliable records and smooth business, it made things easier for the local authorities to know and track down members of the Order.

The organization of the Sith Empire is this:

One Master, one Apprentice. The Master remains in Coruscant, known by the alias _Sidious_ ; the Apprentice is the only one who knows the Master’s true identity, and directs the Empire as Sidious commands. Below the Apprentice are any number of Acolytes, all of whom are vying for the position of Apprentice should the current one be felled by their enemies or even one of their own number. These Acolytes run their own crews and are shuffled through the Empire’s territories like the cards in a deck, making it next to impossible for authorities or enemies to pin down what hand is in play at any given time.

As an Acolyte, Vader would have moved at his Master's command; as a member of Vader’s crew, Ahsoka must have travelled with him through all those relocations.

Her smile falters, that apathetic mask from earlier falling down over her expression once more. “I mean it though, Ben. I don’t think this is so bad a life, but I’m used to it. I don’t have anywhere else to go. But you have a life here. A normal life with your boring library and your stupid motorbike. You shouldn’t throw all of that away just because Vader made you some stupid promise.”

The wheels on the chair’s base squeak in protest when Ben pushes on it, scooting it over far enough for him to sit on the surface of the desk. Ahsoka appears genuinely surprised at his lack of decorum, as he always berates her for sitting on the desk. “Ahsoka, what exactly did Vader tell you about me?”

“He told me that it was cool for me to come back to work, and that you’d be working with us from now on.”

“He didn’t tell you anything else? About my history?”

She shakes her head in the negative, and Ben sighs. The girl’s worry is understandable, if she thinks that his identity as a small-town librarian is who he _actually_ is. In fact, not informing her of Ben’s true history seems like an enormous oversight from Vader. If this lack of communication is typical in his crew, Ben is definitely going to have his work cut out for him. “You’ve seen my tattoo, correct? What do you know about it?”

“Just enough to describe it to Vader. It seemed like it meant something to him, though. He agreed to the meeting with you personally, after I told him about it.”

“I’m not surprised that he recognized it. My tattoo, Ahsoka, is the mark of a Jedi Knight.”

The girl makes a surprised noise. “J-Jedi? Aren’t they like… the enemy of the Sith?”

“So Vader has told you about them. Yes, the Jedi and Sith have been enemies for as long as there’s been organized crime in Coruscant. I used to be among their number, until the turf war in Naboo. I’ve been in witness protection ever since.” Ben reaches out, lays a hand over her own. “You don’t have to worry about me, dear. I know what I’m signing up for better than most, by jumping into bed with your employer.”

Ahsoka wrinkles her nose at his words. “Vader didn’t tell me your meeting last night went _that_ well.”

“W-what?” Ben sputters, feeling a blush form over his cheeks. “No, no, that’s not what I—”

His babbling is interrupted when Ahsoka breaks out into a peal of laughter, her own cheeks flushing with her delight at his discomfort. Ben shuts himself up, fixing her with a scowl that likely isn’t nearly as fierce as he intends it to be.

“That was a very cruel thing to do,” he informs her.

“I’m sorry, but the look on your face!” Ahsoka wipes at her watering eyes, trying to stifle her. “For real, though, I don’t mind if you want to sleep with Vader. He probably needs a good lay; I know it’s been a while.”

Ben all but leaps off the desk, stomping over to the book return and snatching up its contents. His face burns as he stomps past her and out toward the stacks, announcing, “I hadn’t even thought about it.”

A mocking, “Whatever you say!” follows him as he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben definitely hasn't noticed how pretty Vade is. Nope. It would be very unprofessional to check out his new boss.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick update before I head out to the airport. Mostly exposition. The real action will pick up next chapter.

Sliding on his leather biking jacket is like sliding into a second skin. It’s been months since he’s worn it, leaving it stuffed in the back of his closet in favor of the more homely attire he’d taken to wearing in the wake of his relocation to Tatooine. It isn’t exactly the kind of thing that gives off the “nothing so see here” aesthetic that his handlers would prefer he stick to, as it bears too many associations with his past life as a Knight. Most of the jacket’s back is taken up by the open-circle crest that is the symbol of the Jedi Order, its shoulder bearing the mark of a Knight echoed on his skin. A variety of other bits and bobs flow down the left sleeve from there, denoting his lineage, his training, and any particularly noteworthy achievements. They would mean little to anyone outside the game, but to a member of the Order or the Empire, they’re his life story laid out to see. Ben feels like himself—a luxury when you’re living as another person entirely.

Pausing as he combs his hair into place in front of the bathroom mirror, Ben runs a hand over the beard he’s grown and wonders if he should shave it. He’d kept clean-shaven in his youth, but there’s something about it that’s seemed to grow on him over the passing months. It makes him appear more sophisticated, Ahsoka had said last week, when he’d managed to dig up one of his old wanted posters on the girl’s phone to satisfy her curiosity. _Regal_ , Vader had described it, leaning over Ben’s shoulder with an unlit cigarette between his teeth. While Ben won’t let him smoke in the building per the health code, he can get away with simply _having_ a cigarette.

Maybe he’ll keep it for now, he decides, brushing his hand over it again and trying to control the smile that threatens. Just until Vader gets him out of this hell-hole of a town. Regal. Obi-Wan Kenobi’s never been _regal_ a day in his life. Pompous and stuffy, yes, but he finds he quite likes the sound of regal instead.

Slipping out of the apartment requires passing Thing Two, whose turn it is to keep an eye on the house while his partner lingers around the library. The marshal eyes Ben’s attire with clear disdain; distrust radiates from him with a clarity reminiscent of their first weeks together, when he was still considered a flight risk. Ben knows he’s made them increasingly nervous these past few weeks. The early mornings at the library and late-night meetings with Vader have thrown off his previously unshakable schedule. He returns to the apartment smelling like cigarettes and gun oil, but they can never find any proof that he’s violated the terms of his plea deal. Ben is far too careful for that. Instead they get antsy, get aggressive and he knows that the marshal be going through his things when he leaves after he returned to the apartment particularly late last night.

Not that it matters, he thinks, slinging a black duffel bag over his shoulder before stepping out of the apartment. There won’t be anything for him to find.

A couple changes of clothes, the weapons he’s been given, the weekly stipends from Vader he’d saved up. There really wasn’t much to pack, all things considered, but that’s perhaps for the best. While it’s not unusual for him to occasionally pack a bag and visit the gym after the library closes, having too much on him would undoubtedly tip the marshal off that this isn’t just another workout bag. With the relocation just on the horizon; everything he needs to bring with him can be safely stored in the library until then. Vader can easily procure anything else he might need once they reach Coruscant.

Revving the engine on his bike, Ben pulls into the early morning traffic of Tatooine’s streets, allowing muscle memory to steer him safely to the library while his mind drifts. It’s been years since he’d last been to Coruscant—not since his early twenties, at least, when the Knight he was studying under had been transferred to Naboo. Ben went with the man and remained there up until the early days of the Naboo turf war, when he was arrested for attempted murder and took the plea deal that landed him in Tatooine.

 _Attempted_.

The thought still makes his teeth grind; a wasted opportunity. If some Good Samaritan hadn’t called emergency services, hadn’t gotten the cops involved, it would have been a lot more than _attempted_ murder.

The predictably unpredictable flow of traffic is enough to soothe the ragged edges of those particular thoughts, however. He leans left, slipping into the next lane when the driver of a little red car plows into the lane he’d previously occupied without so much as a glance into the side mirror. Ben merrily flips the man off, and the driver returns the gesture as per the routine they’ve developed since he began this commute. Passing the woman who misses her turn every morning, he veers onto the quiet road housing the library.

Despite the early hour, there are already cars in the parking lot. One of the vehicles belongs to the other marshal playing Ben’s guard, but the rest are just a bit too nice to belong to the average, everyday patron of the Tatooine County Library. All of them are a sleek black or dark grey, windows tinted against curious onlookers. Ben would know who they belong to even if their owners weren’t currently milling around the locked front door to the library, collars turned up against the morning chill and the marshal’s questionably keen eyes.

The library has become the official meeting place of Vader’s crew since Ben joined up, the group coming in regularly enough that he’s added it to the schedule as a specialty book club. They pile into the building’s small meeting room, copies of eclectic and battered books they haven’t read laid out on the table as they discuss the affairs around town and the preparations for the upcoming move to Coruscant. He and Ahsoka join them when there aren’t any other guests to attend to, voicing their opinion here and there; while he’s had to disappoint several avid readers interested in the new “club”, these meetings have allowed Ben to meet more of Vader’s crew than he’d otherwise have been able to, cooped up as he is.

Aphra, he discovers, is a driver only in title. While she is an asset behind the wheel in a pinch, she’s also an extremely talented thief. Working with Vader is a matter of stability, Aphra tells him. While she doesn’t get to stretch her legs as often as she might freelancing, she likes being able to count on a paycheck in her hand at the end of every week. That, and Vader is far less likely to double-cross her than the average person looking to hire a criminal of her standard. She can get into almost everything, up to and including the locked drawer in Ben’s desk, where he keeps a stash of sweets Ahsoka can’t get into. Or rather—kept, past tense. Vader had gotten quite a laugh out of Ben’s complaints about the matter.

Cody and Rex: identical twin brothers. They serve as Vader’s personal muscle, armed to the teeth and prepared to step in at their employer’s word. Ben has worked with a lot of muscle in his life, but the twins are… refreshingly clever. They’re always ready with a sharp retort to throw back at Vader or himself, and have a variety of interests outside of their occupation that they’re happy to discuss—which is more than Ben can say for himself, currently. Every moment of his free time is dedicated to preparations for the move to Coruscant, having fallen into an almost suspiciously easy partnership with his new boss. Recently, the twins have been spending more time away from Vader’s side, one or the other lingering in the library during the working hours. _For your safety_ , Vader claims, _in case your sordid past comes back to haunt you._ While Ben is convinced they also follow him home, he hasn’t been able to catch them at it yet. They’re really very good.

The money guy, Piett, is scrawny in the way that most bookkeepers are. Unintimidating, unremarkable, and twitchier than most of his type, Piett has a wariness of his employer that contrasts gratingly with the rest of the crew’s seemingly bottomless devotion. Aphra tells him that this is because of the way earned his position; he used to be _assistant_ bookkeeper, until he found out his former superior was skimming cash off the top of the crew’s earnings. Rumor has it that Piett was there to bear witness when Ozzel found his way into a body bag, but no one has ever been able to make him confirm nor deny it. Vader has a thing about loyalty—even more so than the average man in charge. Still, for all Piett’s erratic behavior, he’s got a gift for keeping everything in line that Ben can appreciate.

“Good morning, everyone,” Ben mumbles, pushing his way through the group as he fumbles with the keys to the front door. He receives a chorus of hellos in return, but the response is slower than he’s gotten on previous mornings. Their curiosity is all but palpable as they eye his unusual attire. Most of them know his history; if they didn’t before, the logo of the Jedi Order emblazoned on the back would certainly give him away now.

As soon as the doors are unlocked, the group pushes past and into the warm building. The only one that remains is Vader, falling into step with Ben as they follow the rest of the crew in. Vader is bundled up in his heavy pea coat this morning, a scarf tied around his neck and sleek, leather driving gloves covering his hands.

“Interesting jacket,” the younger man notes, pressing one of the two travel mugs he’s carrying into Ben’s hands, “though we’ll have to make some changes if you’re going to keep wearing it.”

“I figured as much,” Ben chuckles, curling his fingers around the warm mug gratefully. Vader’s occasional gifts of hot tea are always a welcome addition to his morning. “Where is my assistant this morning, if you don’t mind me asking? I didn’t see her with the rest of the group.”

“Packing. She has a habit of procrastinating, and there’s quite a few things that need boxing up before we ship out.”

Ben breaks from the group as they pass the staff office, slipping away so can put his bag up while the rest of the group shuffles into the meeting room. He doesn’t realize that Vader has followed after him until he hears the office door click closed behind them. Despite his best efforts to remain calm, pulling the duffel off his shoulder and tucking it into the back of a cabinet, the weight of Vader’s gaze raises hair on the back of his neck. As far as he knows, he hasn’t done anything wrong; this has to be about the move.

Sure enough, Vader’s hand settles on his arm, pulling him away from the cabinets and turning him to face the younger man. “Hey,” he says, moving his grip to Ben’s shoulder and squeezing when he refuses to meet Vader’s eyes. “I know you’ve been cool about working with us so far, but Tatooine’s a different animal than Coruscant’s going to be.

“I know what happened on Naboo, and while I can’t say I blame you for what you did, I need to make sure you’re not going to be making any more rash decisions. My crew is going to take a lot of flak when word gets out that you’re still alive. The Jedi, the Sith, _everyone_ is going to be on my ass. We can take that; we’re used to it. But are going you sure you’re going to be alright?”

Reaching up, Ben clasps Vader’s elbow with his free hand. “I’ll be fine, Vader. I’m ready to get back into it.”

“Good,” Vader says, offering him a pleased smile and another squeeze to his shoulder. “And it’s Anakin, please. We’re friends, are we not?”

“Of course, Anakin.”

“Good. Now come on, we’ve got a meeting to start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be out of town from today to Saturday, 3/18, so NONE of my wips will update until then! Thank you all for your patience!


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update literally every fic I've ever written to distract myself from starting another one

Moving Day comes with far less fanfare than Ben had expected. He supposes this is due to the crew's history of traveling more than anything. Moving assets had always been a hassle for the Order, but then the Order was never eager to deviate from the routine. With practice, Ben supposes, anything can get easier.

There is no one to greet him at the library that morning; just the cold, empty building and the marshal that followed him in. The tension between Ben and the pair has escalated as the date drew closer, and over the past few days Ben has never found himself left alone. They follow him to work, sit in the parking lot or sometimes the building itself, and then follow him home. They know he's up to something, have noticed his things slowly disappearing from the safehouse, but haven't been able to pin anything on him that would allow them to take him back into custody. They can't arrests him for pawning his belonging for supplementary income.

He hasn't risked a visit with Vad—Anakin, nor has any of the man's crew come to the library outside of Ahsoka. They've communicated through her, and the burner phone Anakin gave him, to finalize the details of their move. It would be a lie to say that Ben isn't nervous, but it's more the good kind than the bad. Truly, he is ready to be out of this backwater town. He just hadn't realized how much until Anakin pressed a gun to his chest and spoke a name long forgotten in the streets of Coruscant.

The work day passes by agonizingly slowly. Thing 1 sits at a table with a clear line of sight to Ben's desk, obtrusive in his full uniform. It disturbs the usually pleasant atmosphere of the library, drawing wary, but curious looks from patrons as they come and go. Ben can feel the weight of his stare as he goes about his business, the Marshal not even bothering to pretend to read whatever book he picked off the shelf at random.

Ahsoka's banter is sorely missed as Ben spends the day alone. On days when one of the marshals would sit in, she would provide a constant, murmured commentary of what the man might be thinking. They almost always drew a laugh from Ben, the teen devastatingly witty in her remarks. He wishes she was here to share this last day with him, but he'll see her tonight for the journey to Coruscant.

Thing 1 slips out as Ben finishes his daily chores, cleaning up the library. It won't be open tomorrow, what with both of its caretakers abandoning their post, but he can at least leave the place looking nice for whoever takes the position after him. It's the polite thing to do, and he still has time to kill before meeting Anakin at their discussed rendezvous point. Most of the crew and their supplies have already left for Coruscant, but Anakin, Ahsoka, and Aphra have stayed behind to give him a lift to the city. It's a long drive, and it would be hell to make alone on his bike.

When the last of the chores are finished up, a glance at the clock tells Ben that it's time to be on his way. He slips into the break room and collects the duffel bag he had stashed there, opening it up to assure its contents are still intact. It's all still there: money, clothes, guns. He pulls one of the weapons out, the handgun Anakin first gave him in this very office. It feels like a lifetime ago, now. The weapon is tucked into his pants at the small of his back. His jacket doesn't do as much to hide it, but with both marshals hanging around, he's probably going to need it to make his escape.

Sure enough, when he leaves the building, both marshals stand in the parking lot, leaning against the sides of their cars like an odd set of bookends. Ben takes his time with locking up, considering his options on the best way to slip the pair. Since they’re both here, there’s no way he’s going to be able to simply go on his way; there’s going to be a confrontation. His bike is his best bet, but with both cars here, it’s going to be difficult to lose them.

He’ll figure it out.

Pocketing his keys, Ben finally turns to face the marshals, strolling out into the parking lot and toward his bike at a leisurely pace. They watch him with matching suspicion, arms crossed over their chests, though Thing 2’s hand does slide down to rest on his holster as Ben nears his bike.

“Evening, gentleman,” Ben hums, slipping his duffel off his shoulder and strapping it to the back of his back.

“Evenin’ Ben,” Thing 2 grunts. “Done for the night?”

“Just finished up.”

“Headin’ over to the gym?”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid,” Ben sighs, and decides it best to just get this over with. He’s due at the rendezvous point shortly. “I wanted to thank you both for the tremendous effort you’ve put forth in keeping me safe during our time together. You are perhaps the most incompetent handlers I could have been assigned, but you’ve kept me alive, and I suppose it is the end result that matters.”

The marshals flash each other confused expressions that morph into startled realization in the next moment, when Ben pulls the gun from it place at the small of his back and aims it at them. “Unfortunately, this is where we must part ways.”

Both men fumble for their own weapons, but they’re out of practice doing anything but tailing him around town and ordering take-out. Ben easily has the upper hand, having spent several nights at the firing range getting back into the habit with Anakin. He fires first, not at the marshals, but at their cruisers. While some of the Order never much cared about the consequences of taking the lives of cops, Ben never had the taste for it.

The front tire of one cruiser ruptures under Ben’s fire, rendering it all but useless. Unfortunately, the other cruiser is parked at such an angle that he can’t get a clear shot of its tires, but taking out the one should be enough to slow the marshals down, at least. They fire a few pot shots at him as he hops onto his bike, but they don’t come anywhere close to hitting him; he’s far too valuable a witness to risk a fatal injury unless they know for sure they won’t be able to take him back into custody.

Revving his bike and peeling out into the streets, the marshals scrambling to climb into the still operational cruiser and pursue him, Ben wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Delighted laughter rips from him as he weaves through evening traffic, the cool air whipping against his face and pulling his hair from its neat style. He hadn’t bothered to spend the time pulling on his helmet; if he’s caught in this escape attempt, he’s as good as dead anyways. He won’t survive long in prison. Either he’s leaving this town at Anakin’s side, or he’ll die trying.

From behind him come the sounds of pursuit, and he can just see the flashing lights of the cruiser from the corner of his eye. Tires squeal and horns blare as they attempt to make their way through the heavy traffic, but Ben’s bike is much better suited for maneuvering in these conditions than the marshals’ bulky cruiser. It’s a good thing, too, because the point where Ben is supposed to meet with Anakin is quickly approaching.

Traffic thins as he reaches the outskirts of town, but he has enough of a lead on the marshals that he should have plenty of time to meet up with Anakin and be on their way before the cruiser catches up. He presses down on the clutch, letting the bike pick up speed and carry him down the straight, all but vacant road that leads out of town. Night has just begin to fall, the first stars visible over the horizon. Ben relishes in the speed, in the freedom, in just _being_. For so long he has denied himself this, and for the life of him he can no longer understand why.

Up ahead: a familiar town car pulled off on the side of the road, its engine running and hazards flashing. Illuminated by the headlights is the silhouette of a man, his back to Ben, presumably staring out toward the road ahead. He brings the bike to a more reasonable speed, then finally a halt when he reaches the stopped vehicle. Anakin approaches as he dismounts, a lit cigarette between the younger man’s quirked lips.

“You made it,” the Sith greets, reaching out to clasp Ben on his shoulder. The touch lingers, though neither man seems to notice or care.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says breathlessly, still riding the high the exhilaration that came with escape.

Anakin smiles then, a soft thing that makes Ben’s heart stutter in his chest for reasons he can’t quite understand. “Glad to hear it,” he murmurs, and the hand on Ben’s shoulder squeezes gently as they stare at one another under the stars of the Tatooine night.

It’s the sound of a siren that drags them out of their revere, both pulling away from the other with an awkward clearing of throats and blushes hidden by the darkness. Ben hadn’t realized just how close he’d drifted to Anakin in those moments of peace—close enough to feel the heat of his body. Just over the horizon, a pair of flashing lights is only just visible, slowly but steadily approaching.

“I suppose that’s our cue,” Ben drawls, and Anakin nods.

“Let’s get out of here.”

They clamber into the backseat of the car, Aphra and offering them both a brief greeting before peeling out onto the open road. Ahsoka is already asleep in the passenger’s seat, exhausted from the chaos of the past few days, and Ben is certain that they haven’t even gone fifty miles before he follows suit, dozing off to the sound of Anakin’s voice explaining plans for their new life in the city ahead.


End file.
